


My Beloved Monster and Me

by CobaltStargazer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Loneliness, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't give up hope, and you don't because you can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Beloved Monster and Me

**Author's Note:**

> Blame The Eels.

He came back. He came back to her, and as a man.

He was gone for three months, and for three months she watched the skies between training sessions for the sight of the Quinjet. Ridiculous, since if he was in stealth mode not even she'd have been able to see him. But she watched. She watched and she hoped, because surely the universe couldn't be so cruel as to let her find him, the possibility of _them_ , then take it away from her. She didn't look for him, try to seek him out, but she did watch. And wait.

Clint knew. He knew without asking, saw the way her jaw would set before they parted ways at the end of a long day. The trainees were new and green, and the more experienced fighters were doing their best to whip them into shape, turn them into a cohesive unit. She worked doggedly, her mind set on the task at hand. But when the sunlight began to wane, depending on the day, Clint would see her square herself up, then head to the upper levels of the complex. The jet had a beacon on-board, so if he decided to set a course for home, the plane could almost land itself without his assistance.

"Think tonight will be the night?"

Her friend only asked her once, and she'd given him a level look in response. Clint knew because he understood what it was to be away from someone so important for long periods of time, and that made them comrades in a way that had nothing to do with battle. Her expression was stoic, but there was a glint in her eye. Anyone else might gave broken down into tears by then, but she didn't cry. Ever. She had been inside the Red Room and come out as both less and more than she had been, but they hadn't entirely managed to burn the humanity out of her. You didn't give up hope, because to give up hope was to die.

"Maybe. If not...." She had looked through the large plate glass window, her brow puckering momentarily before smoothing out again. "Then soon."

She worked and she sparred and she taught and she lectured, but she also watched. It was summer when he left, and as the season turned to fall and the weather cooled, the days grew shorter as the leaves fell from the trees. She watched the branches turn bare, the ground bright with yellow-red-orange-gold. No sign and no word. But he hadn't said goodbye, and whatever else, he wouldn't just abandon her without a farewell, a real one.

It was the first day of winter, a light sprinkle of snow on the ground, and she was at her usual sentry's post, studying the thin cloud cover, and the sight of a growing speck on the horizon pulled her fully out of the reverie she'd been in. She'd waited there purposely, on the roof where he'd see her first when - if - he ever decided to turn around and come back. Because he had said she couldn't possibly give her the life he thought she deserved, that marriage and children were things he could never give anyone. Even after she'd told him about the Red Room, the final thing they'd taken away from her before putting her in the field because it was practical, the only thing she might have prioritized over a mission. But that wasn't why. Why she'd waited, why she'd have waited forever and had already forgiven the time they'd wasted. Man or monster, either or both, he spoke to her soul.

The wind whipped her hair as the jet descended, then touched down. She could feel him watching her through the windscreen, and there would be more snow later, she could smell it. A blanket of cold over the ground, a sharp contrast to the fire that burned in her chest. Would she find him changed, ready to face the possibility that he could have a life too, even without a white picket fence and two-point-four kids?

The jet's hatch finally opened, and she approached as his heavy shoes hit the tarmac. Neither of them rushed. Three months had passed, what was another minute or two? She surveyed him from a distance of two feet, her expression assessing. His dark eyes held a question, _Did I wait too long?_ , and the ones she wanted to ask, _Where did you go? Why did you change your mind?_ were standing somewhere in the back of her mind, studying the scene as she once studied the sky. But where and why didn't matter, because she'd done her forgiving already.

"Hey,, big fella." And she didn't cry. Not her, not ever. So if her voice cracked, he would likely do her a solid and never mention it.

"Hey, Nat." He very carefully put an arm around her, the difference in their heights making her seem even shorter than usual. He smelled like the cold, like the winter in Russia, and when he put his other arm around her she rested her cheek against the sturdy wall of his chest for a wordlessly relieved minute. Because not to lean, just this once, would have broken her. His heartbeat was a siren's call, hailing her from within his rib cage.

"Welcome ba...welcome _home_ , Bruce."

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen Civil War yet, but I re-watched Ultron last night and couldn't leave Nat and Bruce like that.


End file.
